is better'

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@lavidachula_

anonymous asked:

But did you see Regina's sour face? It has to be deliberate. Hence the rushed hug and brushed off awkwardness?

Well of course she’s fucking sour. Because this…

…is how she really feels about Emma being with the self-serving douchebag. So what else is she gonna do now but lie through her teeth?

Y'all the bts concert was amazing. The boys seemed to really enjoy performing for us and interacting with us. The reactions the fans gave them were so encouraging and you could see at the end of the concert that some of them were starting to tear up. Especially Rap Monster, Jimin, and Yoongi. J-hope was being extra the entire time (and he kept speaking English to us). Jimin’s high notes were on point and his English was super adorable. Jin’s voice was so beautiful to listen to live and Awake was bomb. Rap Monster killed Reflection and he really seemed to be super happy to see us American ARMYs. V threw water at the crowd (I think J-Hope did too) and it wet my friend. He also killed Stigma. I cried when Yoongi did First Love. You could tell he was pouring his heart into the lyrics. Jungkook almost made me cry with Begin but the dance break was dope. He also got an American flag at the end of the concert and was running around with it on stage. The encore stage was perfect. The entire show was perfect. They were so happy to be here with us American ARMYs, and we gave them all the love they deserved. This concert was absolutely wholesome and 100% lit and I hope they enjoy the other four they have left in America.

anonymous asked:

I want you to know that I had a crumpled up post it note and there was no trashcan nearby. I almost just dropped it on the ground, but then a thought, man criminals!Obito would be angry. So I held onto it till there was a bin.

xD Eco terrorist Obito approves! And in congratulations, have a snippet from the next part of the criminals ‘verse. ^-^


“Out! Get out!” the guard barks, shoving at them with the muzzle of his gun. “I don’t have time to waste with you rats. Out of the truck. Don’t make me come in there and get you!”

As they stumble out into the cold winter sunlight, Nagato grips Konan’s arm so hard he’s absolutely certain he’s leaving bruises, and it’s the only thing that keeps him on his feet as his legs cramp. He bites back a cry, frozen muscles and unused limbs not ready for motion, and Konan has to wrap an arm around his waist to propel him towards the corner of the compound the guard shoves them at.

“It’s all right,” Konan breathes as they press against the wall, barely moving her lips, because between the two of them she’s always been the braver. “I won’t let them separate us.”

She’s said it before—at the orphanage, with Hanzō, in the darkness of the ship that took them away and in the chill of the covered truck that brought them here. It makes Nagato wish, desperately and fruitlessly, that Yahiko was on his other side, the way he always used to be, bold and bright and incredibly brave. He’d be shouting abuse at their captors, taking a stand, the way he did when Hanzō caught them. Ever since the very beginning, it’s been the three of them—cool, calm Konan, cheerful, charming Yahiko, and Nagato in between them, dull and fearful and far too prone to tears.

Those at least have dried up these last few hellish weeks. The first week Nagato had thought he’d never stop crying, from fear, from grief, from helplessness. Now, though—now he feels as if he couldn’t cry even if he wanted to. Everything has withered, leaving only this barren sort of angry terror, directionless, expansive.

Konan’s fingers latch around his wrist, gripping back, and Nagato forces himself to breathe.

From behind the guard, another man laughs. He’s tall and lean, with skin that almost has a touch of green to it, and his hair is dark. Nagato doesn’t need more than a quick glance from beneath his lashes to pick out gold at his collar and cuffs, platinum around his wrist—money, then, clearly.

After Hanzō, after what happened to their town, Nagato doesn’t think he’ll ever manage to look at men like that without thinking them monsters lying in wait.

The man’s smile does nothing to calm his fears. “Fresh meat?” he asks, grinning like it’s a fantastic joke. A step to the side so he can see past the guard, and strange golden eyes catch Nagato’s own, full of something he can’t read and doesn’t want to. When he flinches back, the man just laughs. “Oh, they’re fresh indeed.”

One of the looming men who forced them into the truck at the docks makes a derisive sound, and it’s only with effort that Nagato doesn’t flinch from that, too. “They were offered to the boss free of charge, but he can’t sell them. What’s the point?”

Konan’s fingers are like manacles around his wrist, but Nagato knows they’re far more to hold herself back than to hold him. Konan knows he won’t run into a fight, while Nagato knows Konan will.

Yahiko would be the one leading the charge, if he were here, but he’s not.

He’ll never be anywhere ever again.

“Can’t sell them alive,” a woman’s voice says, absently, mildly amused. In a doorway, the shadows stir, and a tall, auburn-haired woman in a short dress saunters out, seemingly unaware of the mountain chill that’s already making Nagato’s teeth chatter. She casts him and Konan a lazily assessing look, closer to bored than anything, and then turns a sly smile on the man. “Do you know what livers and kidneys go for on the black market, Mr. Gardener? Hearts? Lungs? It’s just a matter of knowing the right people.” Stepping close to him, she traces her fingers down the buttons of his shirt, casting a look up at him through her lashes. “Though I suppose you know all about that, if you’re here.”

The dark-haired man laughs even as he grabs her hand and pushes it away. “You’re slavering up the wrong tree, my dear Fūka,” he says, on the edge of cruel mocking, and glances back over his shoulder at the shadow following him. “Tobi, did you bring my briefcases like I asked?”

A sour expression crosses Fūka’s face, and she pulls away with a scoff. “Really? You brought your little pet with you? How tacky.”

Gardener grins, sharp-edged and wicked, and he ignores her completely as he turns to address the smaller figure Nagato hadn’t even noticed before. “Give that one to me and wait here. I can’t stand your lurking.”

“Yes, sir,” the dark-haired boy chirps, bobbing his head and coming to a sharp halt in front of Nagato. Younger even than he and Konan are, Nagato judges with a touch of horror, probably not even seventeen yet. One side of his face is wrapped with bandages, leaving only his dark right eye bare, and his left eye is covered with a patch. A long-sleeved shirt can’t quite hide the angry red scars on his right arm and his hand, wrapped around the handle of a second briefcase he hangs on to while the wealthy man takes the other from him.

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closer and separated versions of my Karolina Dean  Avengers Academy rank progression designs! the other one was uploaded pretty hastily and it was sort of hard to see everything

@invadernav @avengersacademy-supportgroup